


the fighter

by superhusbands



Series: endgame fix-its [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED THE MOVIE, F/M, I REPEAT SPOILERS FOR ENDGAME, M/M, Spoilers for Endgame, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 12:41:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18604738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhusbands/pseuds/superhusbands
Summary: they say helen of troy had a face that launched a thousand ships.helen had nothing on steve rogers.





	the fighter

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS YOUR WARNING. THIS WILL HAVE SOME SPOILERS FOR ENDGAME.  
> IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED IT, DON'T READ IT. PLEASE. I AM BEGGING YOU.

they say helen of troy had a face that launched a thousand ships.

helen had nothing on steve rogers. 

tony’s stumbling out of the ship; half delirious, half maddened. when he’d closed his eyes after leaving that message for pepper on the helmet, he was sure he’d never open them again. instead he’d woken to bright lights — a woman, staring at him, her whole body illuminated as if in flames. he’d had to close his eyes again; like icarus, he was flying too close to the sun.  the light was blinding, it burned from the inside out and left him gasping for breath.   


or it was the oxygen deprivation.  
in hindsight, it was definitely that.

crystal blue eyes meet his as he stumbles forward. steady arms reach for him, concern etched deep between steve rogers perfect freaking eyebrows.  “tony.”

he says his name like a prayer.  like he’s been sitting in a chapel, head bowed quietly, praying for miracles; praying for the impossible. 

being on earth is impossible. feeling the sting as his lungs draw breath, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet; these were sensations he’d thought he’d never feel again. 

he feels too much.  
he doesn’t feel enough. 

that face that could launch a thousand ships? he wants to hate it. he wants to hate  _him_. he wants to hate him so badly that he tastes the acid on his tongue. he remembers the weight of the burner phone in his jacket pocket, how it burned a hole through every blazer, every jumpsuit, he tucked it into.  how he never went anywhere without it.

_you betrayed us._ his mind screamed.  _you betrayed me.  
i can’t trust you._

waking up in a siberian bunker, all signs of life desolate in a dead suit, had obliterated any image of the honorable steve rogers.  steve rogers was a soldier.  somewhere along the line, he’d forgotten that.   _he’ll do what it takes to survive. to do what he thinks is right, even if he’s wrong; **especially** when he’s wrong. _

the anger is easy. it flares out like poison, drenching anything that’s left in his emaciated body. he lashes out; fingers shoving into steve’s perfect chest, tongue heavy with the darkest thoughts that had kept him comfort in the dregs of space. 

when he wakes up and steve is nowhere to be found, it’s not a surprise. pepper is there, her hands wrapped tightly around his.  her eyes are red rimmed, like she’s been crying forever.  like maybe it’s part of her now; her grief, an infinite sadness that even his waking presence can’t stamp out. 

_they’re going to fix this,_ she promises him. her eyes are wide, hopeful.  _they’re going to bring everyone back._

a part of him knows that this won’t work.  a part of him knows there’s no hope. 

when they come back empty handed, he can’t even muster up the energy to pretend to be shocked. he’s numb, like his time in space eradicated the human parts of him and left a shell behind.  a dead suit with no hope, no future. 

so they rebuild. they try. 

the world is in chaos.  50% of the population vanished during the decemation.  that’s what they called it; a decemation.  it was more eloquent, more composed, than saying they were snapped out of existence.  because they weren’t;  they remained in memory, lost to everyone who knew them, who loved them. 

_mr. stark, i don’t feel so good._

tony busies himself with work. 

he builds their cabin in the woods with his own two hands.  rhodey helps while pepper watches, her stomach swelling as the months tick by.  when morgan is born, the house is almost ready.  the nursery is painted, the crib in pieces on the floor.  it’s not perfect but it’s as good as it can be, given the circumstances.

tony had thought he’d known love until he’d laid eyes on his daughter.   
it blossomed through him like an antidote, coursing through the poison and blotting it out.  it rewrote the pain, the trauma, the emptiness.  the dead suit sprang to life. 

so of course that was when steve rogers darkened his door again. 

he’s aged twenty year since tony last saw him. or at least, that’s how he carries himself. those straight shoulders, shoulders that tony had once dragged hands over, crushed to his chest like he might not survive if he couldn’t hold him — even for a minute — carried the weight of the world.  steve was atlas, buckling under the weight of his responsibilities; to the world, to the fragmented remains of the avengers. to rebuilding. 

his whole life was accepting tragedy and finding a way to live with it.

_we’re not soldiers,_ tony had said to him once. they’d been fighting on the helicarrier, his anger pulsating dangerously.  steve had been everything tony wished he was.  everything he believed he could never be. he’d had howard’s interest, his trust, and his love.  all things he had craved but never quite been able to grasp. so yes, he hated him for it. 

_we’re not soldiers,_ he’d said.   
he’d believed it once.

now...

“captain.”   


he doesn’t look up from his work bench.  he’s switching through display screens quickly, moving his hands so that steve won’t be able to see they’re shaking. “ i hope you’re not here for round 2. i’ve gotta say, i don’t think i have it in me.” he pushes away from the table. talking is something he’s good at. he can talk, talk, talk, until steve can’t stand it anymore and has to leave. it’s worked before.  “ we’re having lunch at — hey, friday, when are we having lunch? i’m sure pepper could set a place for you.  or is it 2? or 3? did the whole gang drop by, or is just you?”

steve frowns.

“ tony... “  


“ just you then. “ tony takes three steps back, noticing that steve had taken several forward at some point. he’s not ready for there to be inches separating them. he’s not sure he’ll ever be ready.  when he stares into those crystal blue eyes, he’s reminded of everything they’ve lost.   


_win or lose, we’ll do it together,_ he’d said.   
yeah, well, he hadn’t been there in the end... had he?

tony screwed his eyes shut.  thinking about their fight brought him back to thanos, reminded him of the crushing weight of rocks as the moon shattered around him. remembered feeling his own blade slice through him, the days of infection that followed on a foreign planet.

he remembered waiting to die, on a ship depleted of oxygen.

his knees buckle, his hand skittering against the table top. hsi coffee cup slips, crashing to the floor.  steve is suddenly beside him, catching tony as he crumbles.

“ i’m sorry. “  


the panic attack is crippling. it steals his breath, brings tears to his eyes as his hands scrabble for purchase. they curl in steve’s shirt, his hand pressed over his heart.  he breathes in time with steve’s heartbeat, eyes screwed shut as he focuses.  when he’s calm again, he opens his eyes.  steve is right there, eyes wide, concerned and hopeless. 

tony finds it hard to hate him when he looks like that.  he says something to that effect and steve smiles. “ somehow i get the feeling you’ll try anyway. “

he nods, slowly rising to his feet. “ you know me so well. “ it’s glib but it’s true at the same time.  aside from pepper, steve might be the person who knows him best. it's how he exploited his weaknesses, how he inflicted the damage that he did.

tony’s throat tightens. 

“ while i appreciate the apology, it doesn’t really tell me why you’re here. they’ve got phones, email, carrier pigeons, drones,” he’s rambling again; he needs to. “ many, many, different ways you could have done this than showing up at my house. our house. “  


he hates the way steve’s eyebrows flatten, the hardening of his gaze.  there’s no blame to assign, no fault to shoulder, but he feels it all the same. 

“ i needed to talk to you in person. to see how you were. “ steve straightens, looking young and unsure. “ i didn’t like how we left things. “  


steve is helen again, eyes sorrowful. like maybe he regrets the part he played in the war that vanquished the avengers. like he would do things over, change things, if the tides had changed. but tony knows that look; he’s seen it, time and again.  even if they went back, even if they could do it over, there’s no decision steve would make that would change the outcome.

they would always end here.  
  
helen would always launch a thousand ships. 

“ yeah, well, that’s kind of how break-up’s go. “ tony straightens, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  “ you got nat and the raccoon, i got rhodey. “  they don’t talk about pepper.  they never talk about pepper.  “ as you can see,” he gestured around them; the garage that resembled a half-baked workshop, a boat shed with canoes, an  _honest to god_ garden out front, and a partially assembled crib directly behind them. “ i’m doing just fine. “  


the weight staggers steve. he stumbles, the world tilting as atlas goes under. 

“ i’m happy for you, tony. “  and by god, he seems like he means it.  it cost him, tony can see that written plain as day across his face, but he’s earnest.  he’s so damn earnest it hurts.   


tony could punch perfect steve rogers in the face and he’d  _thank him_ for it.

“ i really am. “  


they’re both standing now.  steve is close, his shoulders slumped. his hands are shoved into his pockets.  he imagines that they’re curled into fists, that crescent marks are imprinted into his palms to restrain himself. 

tony’s doing the same.  the desire to reach out and touch steve, to shoulder some of the world’s weight like he used to, is as ingrained in him as anything. 

he’s been a hero for so long, he’s not sure how to shut it off.

“ i’m — “  


a loud wail cuts him off. he turns to the doorway, sees pepper walking through the kitchen, rocking baby morgan in her arms. her hair is twisted into a messy bun, his t-shirt hanging low on her shoulders as her sweatpants drag against the tile.  just looking at her, looking at the life they created, made his heart swell. though his heart ached and his body longed for war, he knew that the fight was behind him.

when he turned around and steve was gone, he understood.

for steve, the war would never be over. 

( as it turned out, the same could be said for him )


End file.
